"I can't just go to bed after days like these," I told him. I think he thought I meant the length of the day--the early hour and the long stretch. But that wasn't what I meant at all. I can't go straight to bed after days like these without clearing my head because on days like these, so many things happen instantaneously; change of mood, change of mind, change of character. In the end, I realized it all had nothing to do with gift-giving. And yes, I know that's not at all what Christmas is about, that's not really what I meant. But follow my mind. It had nothing to do with the gifts. The gifts were terrific; for the most part, meaningful and well thought-out. It seemed like everyone got "the one thing" they were hoping for. But like I said, in the end, it had nothing to do with the gifts. It had everything to do with the people. Anger for lack of gratitude and mis-credit, frustration for silence in conversation and sourness in participation, tired of feeling like the world won't turn if you're not there to push it. For clarification, Christmas was good. Christmas Eve was also good. The conversation at dinner was dominantly on one side of the table and some grumbled that they couldn't read the menu or didn't like anything on it, but the rest of the party enjoyed themselves, the beautiful view and the food. Maybe that's the difference between the glass being half empty, and half full. Maybe the service was more fun where we were, up there, ringing merrily though we were nervous. I admit, we didn't pay attention much during the service, but sang jovially and were happy to participate. Pictures afterward are what we consider precious moments to capture life; a memory bears more importance than sleep, in my book. But then again, I'm a college kid acquainted with limited REM. I still function when the clock spasms. Christmas morning, some of us were cheery, some of us grumpy, most of us sick. Sniffling, sneezing, and blowing our nose, we ate a delicious breakfast at the bar with sticky fingers and warm bellies. After which, football was turned off, Christmas music was turned on, and we opened gifts. As always, I was more excited about a gift to give than to receive; that's just the way I am. I gave mom the frame with the blown-up picture of the cactus and sunset (my head picture, as a matter of fact). She'd been asking for it for a long time and I finally got it together for her. She loved it and I was very glad. I also got all the things I really wanted; a new tripod, Annie Lebowitz's book "A Photographer's Life", and the Facts of Life DVD set. I'm ridiculous, I know, but sometimes the dorkiest things can bring a smile to someone's face. I also got a surprise gift from Kristofer that I really wanted and didn't expect at all; a simple piece of furniture I've been searching for for years, a CD/DVD wood tower with a door and this one has picture frames in the door. It's very nice and I'm very excited to take it (along with my new giraffe figurine) to Tempe (though not at all excited to go back to Tempe). Dinner was delicious; a break in tradition from lamb, but still divine. I found it interesting as I passed by the dining room to retrieve the rolls from the oven that my aunt, uncle, and cousins could sit calmly at the table waiting for dishes of food while my family was being testy in the kitchen. I wondered, had we been at their house, would the roles have been reversed, or is that just the nature of our blood? Football was turned off, Christmas music turned on, and we ate. Later on the extended-extended family came. The backyard door was opened for cool air and closed some time later and then opened again (a pattern which relapsed periodically throughout the night). There were more gifts. Football was turned on, turned down, turned off, turned on, turned up, muted, turned down, turned up, muted, turned off, turned on, and so on. In the other room, Matt played piano and a small group sat around to listen. We tried to play a game but non-participants kept joining in at random so we stopped keeping store and just asked questions, which was just as fun. And then, something happened. Someone left and everyone got quiet. The muted game played for a few minutes in the silent room until someone thought to return the sound. Someone else decided it was time to go, which brought back some life and noise in the room as people gathered their things and said their goodbyes. Grandma mysteriously disappeared. The sick were now sicker at night and gave kisses three feet away and plenty of dessert remained on the counter. The front door shut and all were gone. Three little mice cleaned up the rooms, tidied up the table, replaced the chairs, took out the trash, and wiped the counters. The lights were snuffed and that was the end of Christmas '06.